Waltzing with the Dawn
by Arkenshield
Summary: "Once upon the edge of night, a raven sworn his life to a wild rose."
1. The Golden Sun

Ravens weren't animals known to be tolerant to idiocy.

After all, what was the need? A day in the life of a raven should not need to consist of anything other than preying, mating, and sleeping. All manners of sophistication be damned. So it when then that Diaval found himself at a loss, to say the least, and culturally challenged, to be more precise, when he was tasked with the duty of raising the princess.

Alright, perhaps that was an embellishment of the tale. Rather, back in those days, Maleficent had ordered him to ensure that the princess did not descend to meet an untimely, unfortunate end at the hands of the three imbeciles who - and Diaval would plant both his claws on the ground at this - did not do the _least_ to try to even _pretend_ they weren't some brainless dimwits!

And the dark Queen of the Moors herself? She would rather _die_ rather than admit she cared for 'the little Beastie', which was why this unfortunate task had befallen him.

Not that Diaval, himself, cared for the child or anything, no. Don't be ridiculous. He had sworn his life and service to Maleficent, after all. It was only ever so unfortunate that her wishes were his command.

In the earlier years, it was tough. Diaval still wanted to claw somebody's face off every time he recounted the incident on the very first day of the princess's exile. It was a freezing Spring day, and those loons left the little Beastie to its own devices in a basket outside, as they claimed the cottage, giggling foolishly as they did so. He had had to squawk his pride and dignity away for them to come and collect her. He had made Maleficent promise not to let a soul from the Moors learn about that shameful incident, but the grins the elves sported upon their return told him otherwise, and Diaval could not do anything but send her sidelong glances of disapproval, as Maleficent smirked.

The depth of those Pixies' stupidity was unfathomable. Diaval sometimes wondered if their brains had shrunk even more as their bodies grew. Not once during their sixteen years of residence in that cottage did they ever question how they stumbled upon said cottage in such perfect condition, no leakage in the thatching nor moulds on the walls nor anything of that sort. He sometimes made bets with Maleficent on how far these idiots were going to take things for granted. After all, ravens weren't made to be thatchers either.

He had also had to resign himself to taking care of the basic necessities of a child. Not once did Diaval appear before her in his human form, for Maleficent feared his presence or absence would later be questioned as the princess grew. He did have an inkling, however, that she only did this so he would have more trouble caring for the little Beastie as a raven. Well, in that case, damn her too.

He brought the princess flower dew from the forest when she was thirsty, fed her fresh fruits picked from trees, and grains of barley which grew in the fields yonder when she cried. He had stolen the child's clothes to wash in the stream and hang up in the sun to dry, as the three old fools bickered amongst themselves to find out who put that mauve blouse where and the beige socks whither. Then, at night, he would return to the cottage once more, put the neatly folded frocks and blouses and socks by the mantle, and watched as the little princess fell into slumber.

Ravens could not sing, no, else he would have. So all Diaval could do was grab the rim of the cradle, and rocked it slowly to lull the little Beastie to sleep every night, as he let moonlight filter through the opened window to caress her fair skin, and the forest wind to brush away her cares.

* * *

As the princess grew, Diaval's duty lessened. He no longer had to keep an eye on her to see if she had had something to eat, or if she was feeling poorly. He hated to say this himself, but it would seem that he had, instead, become her companion and confidant.

Oh, why did one raven have to endure so much sufferings?

From searching for lost thimbles in dusty corners, to watching the rising dough in the oven and squawking for her before she burnt the bread, and listening to the princess at her bedroom's window as she confessed her little secrets to him. She never liked the cookies that aunty Thistlewit baked - _burnt_, would be more accurate a description, Diaval had mentally contended as he nodded along with the girl. Neither did she like how aunty Flittle turned all the paints in her paintbox all different shades of blue, it was pretty, but it made her feel blue too, and Diaval could not argue. Most of all, the princess confessed in shame, she did not like how aunty Knotgrass always yelled - or _smelled_, for that matter! And the raven only snickered.

Maleficent had that knowing look on her face when he recounted these little tales to her, and Diaval had to hurriedly clarify that it was not as if he had committed his mind to remembering these useless details or anything. Somehow, they only stuck with him. Obviously, what business did a raven have with humans?

* * *

Winters came and went, time flew by with the wind, and in these recent years, he had not seen much of the princess. Maleficent had sent him to the Forest of Thorns, to lead the faeries of the Moors to stand up against the constant attacks from that greedy King Stefan. It was during these years that he heard from whispers of the wind and tales of the nymphs, that the little Beastie had grown to become a beautiful princess, and that Maleficent cared for her. Not that this surprised Diaval at the least. What struck him, was that the princess supposedly even came deep into the Moors a few times, and Maleficent had let her freely roam her Kingdom, while the Queen herself stepped away into the shadows of the forest, and watched. Well, Diaval thought. It was time he paid her a visit.

"You seem awfully trusting," he greeted, as he landed on her shoulder. Or so he thought he had said it, before he realised that all that came out were some squawks.

Maleficent was not startled at his sudden appearance, she only gave him a sidelong glance and put her finger to her lips. This made Diaval perk up, and the raven craned his neck to peer out of their hideout and into an opening in the dark forest they stood.

"I know who you are!"

A voice suddenly rang out of darkness, and Diaval was taken aback. He could not see what was beyond the tangling vines, but that it was most definitely a human girl's voice.

"You've been watching over me my whole life. I know you're there. Your shadow has been following me ever since I was small," the speaking continued, "Don't be afraid!"

It an was unfamiliar voice, and he cocked his head to the side as he watched Maleficent's face for any signs of change.

"I'm not afraid..." The Queen droned.

"Then come out."

"Then _you'll_ be afraid."

Maleficent stretched her lips into an unsmiling grin, and stepped out into the opening. Then, it was in that moment that Diaval was met with a sight he had never, in his life as a raven, expected to be greeted with...

Her hair, a deeper shade of gold than the first light of day. Fair, was her complexion, and her fragile countenance.

...Lips, a blooming rose kissed by midnight dew...

Oh, he would have been sure he had never laid eyes upon a maiden fairer than she! But it was that pair of crystal blue eyes, that very same pair of eyes that had triggered the memories of all those long lost years to come trickling back into his heart again...

He had stared long enough. The raven flew off Maleficent to perch on a branch nearby, intending to preen his feathers to pass time, but the sweet voice of the girl startled him for a second time.

"I remember you," she smiled, and Diaval felt something blossoming in the pit of his stomach, "Pretty bird."

"This is Diaval," Maleficent said, and the raven took a low bow. From the corner of his eye, he could see her fingers caressing the air, and Diaval felt familiar magic rushing through his veins as he found himself transforming into a man again for the first time in many years.

The girl before him took a step away in shock, but then the same sweet smile returned to her fair face.

"Hello, Aurora," he found himself whispering.

It was as if he was bewitched, because before Diaval could help it, his legs were already carrying him against his will towards the princess.

"I've known you," he managed to croak out, "Since you were a little one..."

He let out a shaky breath and raise his hand, to which she offered hers. Their eyes locked, long and meaningful, as he gently pressed his lips onto that soft, fair, skin...

Aurora smiled, and so did Diaval.

His little princess had grown.


	2. The Bloodied Rose

He still remembered that day, the day of a new beginning.

Diaval recalled having watched as the faeries of the Moors erupted in cheers, and they hailed their new monarch who not only fostered the unity between the Kingdoms, but had also brought joy and love back to the stone-cold heart of Maleficent, and restored the Moors back to the beauty it once was.

It was a dream-like day. The pixies blew their shimmery dust into the air, causing fruits on the trees to ripen and filled the area with their pleasant aroma. He plucked a peach off its branch, but the fruit immediately found its way into Maleficent's hand, and she took a big bite, savouring in the taste of victory of having stolen from a raven.

The river faeries splashed about in the stream nearby, as they blew little jets of water up into the air, creating tiny rainbows all around as the silvery spray reflected off sunlight. As the roar and the applause echoed on through the forest, and the nymphs began their chants of secrecy, Aurora smiled joyfully, and she waved to the creatures of the Moors whom she had befriended from years ago. She was with them now, and she was never leavi-

SMACK!

...Diaval had a question, however.

He watched as Aurora wiped a great glob of mud from her eyes, and shot a glare across the circle of gathering towards prince Phillip, whose palm was smothered with mud from the stream, but whose face still wore the same youthful smile of innocence, unmindful of a group of mud trolls who were snickering behind him.

-Diaval wondered...

SMACK! An even bigger glob of mud landed with deadly accuracy on prince Phillip's face. Not too far from him, Aurora doubled over and laughed herself out of breath, as her target stood stunned, mud dripping down his chin.

-Sometimes the raven wondered how this clod would ever be crowned King, but then again, better a fool for a King than a traitor for one...

It was a day filled with laughters. Diaval was muddied all over, thanks to the Queen of the Moors herself for falling into the stream and pulling him down with her when he offered a hand of help. That sly little minx!

...Once upon a time, the raven had his little Sunrise all to himself again...

Diaval smiled as he looked down at the girl beneath him, they had both tumbled down the stream into a quagmire in a dark alcove. The dangling vines shielded the two from the other spectators...

He gazed into her bright, blue eyes that shone like stars, and let the tip of his cold fingers lightly graze her cheek. Aurora laughed, as she reached up to wipe away mud from his face. _You are handsome, Diaval_, she had said. Diaval caught her hand and stilled it, for a silent storm was brewing inside him.

Then, within the blink of an eye, she slipped away.

...She may have been crowned Queen now, but she knew too well she would always be his little princess. Not even a fool should question that.

The raven had bet Maleficent three chestnuts that the fool would escort Aurora once the celebration was over. The Dark Queen shot him a disapproving glare, and unabashedly escorted her little Beastie herself to save Prince Charming from his trouble-_oh don't you dare, thank you very much_! Once Maleficent figured out his insinuation, however, Diaval had received a blow of three chestnuts to his poor, little raven skull.

Then, again, Diaval would rather ten chestnuts to the head than confess that had Maleficent not escorted the princess, then there was no doubt he would have done so himself and be called the fool. For as much as Diaval hated to admit it, he, too, felt uneasy, to say the least, with Aurora's friendship with the royal idiot...

It was friendship, nothing more.

There was nothing wrong with the fool, apart from him being one, which was not a problem to begin with anyway. It was that, at one point, he still had hope there would be no more than some childish attraction between the two, but Diaval would bite his own tongue had he said so. After all, was _he_ not the one to suggest to Maleficent that the boy might by Aurora's one chance of true love?

So what was he doing now, wishing Aurora away from Phillip?

Maybe because he knew there could be another who loved her better, _maybe_?

Or _maybe_ it was him, who was the fool.

* * *

Day turned to night, and Autumn leaves turned white. What he thought was a mere teenage crush blossomed into something more. Maleficent did not need him so much anymore, and everyday he began to see less and less of Aurora. His little princess had someone else occupying her attention now. He had seen them running together in the fields as they laughed merrily, he had secretly watched her attempt after attempt to make flower crowns, and the repeated disastrous results. He had pricked his fingers and bloodied his hands making one of said crowns from the most beautiful blossoming wild roses, and left it by her bedside. He watched true joy blossoming on her face as she found the 'gift from the faeries' that had been left overnight for her. Diaval witnessed their true first kiss. He was there the day they made a vow to forever be one another's, and the raven would never wish more for his Sunrise.

...The rising sun shed its single, golden teardrop on the thorns of a wild rose, and a raven bled.

Weeks turned into months, and months into years. The raven shrank away into the dark, seeking solace from the thick woodlands and comfort from the Valley of Silence. Oh how he had wished for his wings now! To fly away to a distant land where the sun would never rise and roses never bloomed, where hearts that wandered in the dark were never graced with rays of hope, and then crushed with thorns of blooming roses.

If only the sun had never risen in his heart...

* * *

It only seemed like yesterday that she came to him, her loyal Diaval, with one last request.

_Oh Diaval, please teach me how to dance!_

- _What is this, out of the blue, Aurora?_ He eyed her from his place on a hammock.

_Well, I am Queen now,_ she stammered, _I need to learn how to dance._

He knew that that was not the reason. Diaval snorted.

- _Why don't you ask YOUR prince to teach you?_

_Oh Diaval, please! How could I?_

He shrugged and went back to his book, ignoring the look of disappointment on her fair face.

_- I don't dance._

...Honestly, what did she expect a raven to know?

That night, the full moon shone ever so brilliantly above the Moors, and the water nymphs chorused their hymns of long lost love. Diaval tossed and turned in his hammock, for the drumming in his chest was keeping him from slumber, and the flames that were burning from within were scorching him whole on that freezing night.

Through the meadows and into the forest, the raven haired man crept. In silence, he approached the river bank where the wild roses grew. Moonlight filtered down through the canopies of the trees, and there, Aurora was sleeping soundly in an alcove - the alcove behind an opening where they first met.

Her sun-kissed hair glowed, framing her fair face, and her blood red lips were the colour of the wild roses that grew down the river. The Queen of the Moors had become even more beautiful over the years, but all Diaval saw that night, was the little girl sleeping soundly in her cradle, in an old cottage that stood on the edge of the wild...

His thumb brushed over her lips, and the pair of bright blue eyes fluttered opened.

_Diaval?_

_Yes, Aurora_.

_Why have you come?_

_..._

_- Diaval?_

_Dance with me, Aurora..._

Beneath the tortured moon, they waltzed. The dim glow of the moonlight shone down on her face, and Diaval had never seen anything more beautiful.

_One...- two, three. That's right, my princess._ He whispered as they danced to the mournful songs of the water nymphs. _Lean back a bit more, I won't let you fall._

_I know you won't. _Aurora looked up at him with a smile, _you would never._

His lips stretched into a small grin, and Diaval asked.

_How would you know?_

With the same smile on her lips, Aurora shook her head, and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

_Because I know you_. She whispered. _I waltzed with you, once upon a dream..._

That night, as he held her in his arms, Diaval made a vow to forever protect his Sunrise...

* * *

That night was a long lost memory of years ago now. At daybreak tomorrow, she would leave with the prince, her avowed one. They would start a new life together in a kingdom far, far away beneath a different sky, a land where sadness and wars and heartbreaks had never witnessed.

This time, his little princess would leave the Moors forever. This time it would be good-bye.

Diaval watched the horizon, as a pinkish tint was beginning to breach the solace of the night, it was the break of dawn. It was the beginning of a new, joyful day, and the undoing of the enchantment of the night. It was time Diaval woke up from the sweet memories that were naught but dreams...

...The pair of crystal blue eyes stared back into his solemn, dark ones, and Diaval forced a smile. He knew what had to be done.

Before the new day would take everything away, before the night was over, he wished upon a star-

"...Will you waltz with me one last time, Aurora?"

* * *

To be continued...


End file.
